Transfiguration of the Heart

A/N: Sorry about the wait again. Christmas time is a pain in the butt on its own, but when starting a new job, it is most heinous. Please forgive me.

Disclaimer: Jo owns it all, I own nothing. Hey Jo, spread the wealth, huh? ;-)

Enjoy!

Chapter 7- Enigma

Hermione woke to bright sunlight filtering through the large windows of her room. She had finally fallen asleep when the sun was beginning to peak up over the horizon, and she would have given anything for a few moments more of uninterrupted slumber, but she knew that once she was awake, she was awake. The bright sun only aided in getting her moving.

Sleep was troublesome for her, at best, ever since the end of the war, and when she did manage to shut her eyes for a little while, it did not mean she would be rested when she woke. Dreams came to her continuously, most of them dark nightmares of scenes of her clashes with Death Eaters and the final showdown with Voldemort and Harry replaying in her mind. Often times the scenario would change and other people would be killed off, instead of those who actually were, adding a whole new pang of grief to her heart. Other times, the nightmares would be about losing her parents and not having her mother’s sage advice any more, or her father to make her laugh.

Or her mind would skew the days events to things she would rather not ever entertain. This was especially true after a rather perplexing night like the last, and her conversation with one, Severus Snape.

After he had left her in the library with that particularly confusing comment, she had tried to dissect it’s meaning right away. She had gotten as far as deciding that he did indeed see her as a woman and a professor, not as a student, and that was probably solely because of what she wore that evening at dinner. So what? Did he mean more by his comment? Even though she was talking about Snape here, she had never once doubted that he shared the same urges as everyone else. He was a man that found her aesthetically attractive. Okay, fine, she could understand that even if he did not like her much. After all, she’d had a crush on Draco before, just because of the way he looked with that sort of suave, superior attitude.

She was sure plenty of women wore such things around him; for that matter, most likely were much more attractive women than she when wearing those things. What was so different about this situation? Did his admission mean so much more? He had always done so well being sarcastic and hurtful, that for him to come out and say what he did to her, of all people, was most startling. After all, she was the insufferable know-it-all that he loathed to such an unfathomable extreme for her friendship with Harry. She was the girl he did not believe was capable of teaching. She was no more than an annoying gnat flying around an expired potions ingredient. The fact that he had said anything…

Merlin.

Throwing her legs over the side of the bed, she decided it best to go about her morning routine as best she could and push this out of her mind. Clearly she was putting too much thought into this thing, just like always. Overanalyzing had always been one of her least endearing qualities. And overanalyzing wherever Severus Snape was involved never worked. He was Slytherin, after all. He could be cunning in the most devastating ways, and she always managed to interpret things wrong with him.

Oh it was just so confusing!

But then, he’s a confusing man, Hermione.

She was pretty damn sure he liked it that way also, so no one would ever truly know Severus Snape. He was merely protecting himself from someone like her knowing him, the information which she would receive by being close to him the perfect weapon to use to hurt him. It was self-preservation at it’s finest… and ingenious, really.

However, it was too bad for him that she was Hermione Granger, and the tedium of trying to dissect someone’s actions and motives down to their very base had always been one of her favorite pastimes. The Gryffindor know-it-all had the courage to face a difficult man like him, and the ability to study something until she fully understood it. She may not have his predisposition to stealth in working such matters out, but her tenacity in learning something new far outweighed any Slytherin’s.

Two could play at this game.

If it was the last thing she did, she was going to figure this man out, whether he liked it or not. There was one last frontier she had yet to tackle in her education, and that was why Professor Snape was the way he was. Now, though… his comment added an urgency to understanding him. She would learn Professor Snape, even though she knew it would most likely not be as pleasant as trying to learn how to transfigure an animal into a goblet.

At least she had a bit of information to start with. Actually, now that she thought about it, she found she had a lot… she had just never purposefully employed it before. Snape was a half-blood. He was a former Death Eater. His friends were along the likes of the Malfoys. He was uncommonly intelligent. He had hated James and Sirius more than any other wizards in his class. No one, save his parents, maybe, had truly loved him. He had never been able to trust anyone, because of cruel pranks in his school years, or because of the deceit of his years as a Death Eater. Nor could anyone trust him because of his double life.

For a moment she thought she had taken on too much of a task, but steeled herself to it. She would not attempt anything underhanded… this task would just give her an opportunity to speak with him, and possibly build a trust with him that would allow her to dive deeper into what it meant to be him. He would most likely figure out what she was trying to accomplish rather quickly, but perhaps he would find it slightly flattering to know that someone wanted to know him so well. Maybe…

“Ouch,” she said, not realizing she was brushing her hair so harshly and had caught on a tangle. Wait… she was brushing her hair?

Hermione looked down at herself, finding that she was bathed and fully dressed. She could not possibly have been so deep in thought over Snape to notice what she was doing. Could she?

It was a miracle she had not fallen and cracked her head open in the shower. Or heaven’s forbid she had muttered the wrong charms to dry her hair or apply her makeup. Granted, it was all so second nature to her now, that the likelihood of that happening was small. But she was at Malfoy Manor, and any ill-used magic would surely give the master of the house the opportunity to ridicule her for being an ‘incompetent mudblood’.

Upon grabbing her wand and throwing her hair back into a ponytail, she headed down to the main floor to scavenge for breakfast. There were already a multitude of people moving about, but most were there to prepare for the wedding ceremony that would take place later that day either by cooking or decorating. From what had appeared so far, Hermione had no doubt that this would a very formal, lavish affair. Which would also mean she would have to transfigure an equally as stunning dress, but she had already decided it would not be green to appease her hosts.

She went in the direction toward the dining room that had been the spot for their dinner the previous evening, and found that it was quiet all except for the man sitting and brooding over a porcelain cup of tea. He looked up quickly when she entered, his floppy black hair falling into his eyes for a moment before he brushed it back.

It looked as though she had interrupted a rather deep thought, by the distant expression on his face that took some time to change to his normal, uncomfortable sneer. She shook her head and walked to the sideboard that had been set up by house-elves no doubt to make herself some tea. Did he always have to have that unpleasant scowl on his face? She was certain that if he smiled a little more, he could be quite attractive.

Not that she cared at all.

Hermione carried her cup and saucer over to the table, a muffin in her other hand. She debated for a moment where she should sit when Snape, in a moment that threw her completely off guard, flicked his wand with a spell that pushed the chair out opposite him at the table. “Thank you.”

He grunted and ran a hand through his hair.

She knew well enough that he certainly was not a morning person. She had run into him plenty of mornings, and those were the times he had always taken the most points away from her. But she still tried to make conversation. If she was going to accomplish her self-appointed task, she would have to start as soon as possible.

“Where is everyone?”

“Most likely still in their beds,” he said. “It is only seven. Did you not sleep at all?”

“A few hours,” she muttered, slicing her muffin in half and taking a small bite full of blueberries. “I don’t sleep much any more.”

There was silence as she felt his obsidian gaze on her again, so much like the night before, appraising her. Still, there was no invasion into her mind.

“And why could that be?” he asked, a hint of concern in his voice.

She did a double take, trying to discern if that really was concern she heard, or her imagination playing tricks on her. It could be possible.

“What’s this, Miss Granger? I’ve asked you a question and you will not answer freely?”

Hermione frowned and sipped her tea. “I do not sleep much any more because of certain things that plague my dreams.”

Silence again, then a low sigh. “I have them as well.”

“Have what as well?”

“Those nightmares of what I suffered under Him and because of Him,” he said quietly, a long, calloused thumb running over the rim of his tea cup.

Hermione gave him a weak smile and shrugged her shoulders. “I cannot even imagine what you have endured, Professor. I know what I have, and still it is only seven years. You’ve endured the torment for so much longer.”

“It was not always torment, Hermione,” he said softly. “In the beginning it was bliss… when I was the Dark Lord’s pet, proving my worth readily, doing anything he asked. He gave me so much praise. It was what I craved. I got things I never dreamed of… but why would you want to know this?”

She wanted to prod on, but noticed him quickly rebuilding the portion of his wall that had been, just for a quick moment, dissolved. And she did not know if she really wanted him to continue on. The way he spoke so fondly of his time as one of the lead Death Eaters in the Dark Lord’s inner circle was most distressing. It almost sounded as though he missed it. But something had to have changed his mind to repent to Dumbledore and work for the Order.

“I would think everyone would be up on a day such as this,” Hermione said.

He seemed grateful for the change of subject. “If you had not noticed, this is merely a marriage of convenience. While there is an affinity between Draco and Pansy, there is nothing more.”

“Then why do they not wait for someone they love?”

Snape let out a derisive snort. “The likelihood of finding someone they love, and that person being half-blood or a Muggle-born is very high. Why risk them getting out into the wizarding world and meeting new people? Pureblooded families like the Malfoys see that as a problem, of course, and one you have had no worry about.”

“We’re talking about Draco and Pansy,” Hermione said flatly. “If either of them so much as looked at a Muggle-born for longer than a minute, their heads would surely explode.”

He was silent for a moment, letting the conversation die. She sipped her tea and chewed on her muffin thoughtfully. That was when he sprung the next comment on her. “But you would be surprised, Miss Granger, the amount of times I’ve spotted Pansy looking at you in envy, and Draco in lust.”

“I always knew that part of the reason why Pansy treated me the way she did was because she was jealous of me,” Hermione said bashfully, “though I’m not sure what she found so envy-worthy in my life.”

Snape was quiet and leaned back in his seat, resting his elbows on the arms of his chair and crossing his long fingers in front of his face. She watched as two long, white index fingers stretched out and rested against his thin lips thoughtfully. Then she felt his gaze on her, starting at her eyes. He held her eyes for a moment, slowly traveling down the curve of her neck, to her breasts, to her waist, and he paused, staring down at the table as though he could see through it and her crossed legs. Hermione fidgeted self-consciously.

What the hell was this? Last night had been discomfiting enough, but now he was truly looking at her like an animal eyeing a piece of rather juicy meat. Or maybe she was just reading this all wrong. Perhaps it was disgust on his face? Perhaps he was preparing to make a snide comment about not seeing why Pansy would be envious of her either.

“Hermione…” he let her name hang in the air, “… don’t fidget. Nervousness has never become you. You’re quite--.”

Whatever he said was lost on a loud scuffle outside the doors of the dining room, following by a clattering of serving platters and muffled curses. Both of them were on their feet with wands at the ready as they rushed out through the door to the main entrance. Hermione was only vaguely surprised to see a flash of pink hair and a Weird Sisters shirt on the one in the middle of the commotion. She chuckled and shook her head, shoving her wand back into her pocket.

“I might have known, Tonks,” Hermione laughed as an accosted caterer cast new charms to gather fallen serving platters.

The pink-headed witch looked up, her cheeks rosy with embarrassment. “Trust me to make an entrance, eh?”

“I didn’t know you were invited Hermione.”

She looked up to find Remus just entering through the large front doors. “I might say the same about you.”

Snape sighed and answered her in a bored tone, “I would not be surprised to see all of the Order members here, Miss Granger. The Malfoys are trying to put up a good face to the rest of the wizarding world.”

“I’m sure the Weasleys will be here as well,” Remus smiled.

Tonks stood beside Hermione now and whispered, “Besides, it never hurts have a few extra… ‘protections’… in place should things get out of hand.”

Hermione nodded. While Tonks was, by definition, no longer an Auror, she knew that the witch was still very much involved in Ministry business. Her position at Hogwarts helped with the security of other students who might be affected by the remaining Death Eaters on the run.

“Lugknut is showing you to your rooms,” the house-elf interupted, reaching for the scattered luggage, the only remnants of the earlier commotion. Hermione watched the pair disappear up the stairs before turning to her side to look for Snape. He was gone, but his gaze from earlier still made her feel very uncomfortable, but she was not entirely sure it was an absolutely terrible 'uncomfortable'.